


The First Time and the Last Time

by LeVen



Series: A Million Memories Washed Ashore [5]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: First Meetings, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Last Meetings, not proof read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 06:24:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20253598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeVen/pseuds/LeVen
Summary: The first time Ankaurk meets his son and the last time he sees him.





	The First Time and the Last Time

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't edit this at all. Sorry..

**One Month.**

Malachi was born at the end of summer. He was born early, but he was a healthy enough baby. His conception came to a surprise to everyone except a handful of the staff, who’d been under the assumption the Havermoons would have no more children after their three girls. Unlucky was the youngest son, who would inherit very little. Unluckier still, when the rumor spread he was an illegitimate child. Lilliana did nothing to stop the rumors, and so the rumor was accepted as the truth it was. He wished the child would have a better life than the one he would inevitably lead. Ankaurk wished he never knew why.

From the moment of his birth, the young boy was sent to the care of the wet nurse who cared for two of the previous children, and after that, he was raised under the eye of the governess. But when Malachi was a month old, the eye of the lady of the house lifted enough for Ankaurk to take a peek. It wasn’t that the mistress cared deeply for her son when she barely expressed any interest in her daughters as infants, much less this new baby. He almost didn’t even want to meet the child, knowing just how his life would end. He hadn’t even wanted to participate in his conception, but he had little choice and no alternatives elsewhere. 

The nursery was in a separate wing than the rooms for the family. The design was enough to deceive the eye unfamiliar with the layout in the desire to protect the children of the house. The true reasons why it was designed in such a way was unknown. The living quarters of the Havermoons were left in similar halls. Perhaps the nursery was always meant to be kept out of the way and hidden. The relationship the noble family had with childrearing always was different than the norm.

Ankaurk didn’t get lost, he found the turn when the wall suddenly ended. General knowledge all the servants had of the layout kept them from getting lost within the halls of the estate. It was not hidden to those who lived there. 

He heard humming before he found the door to the nursery. It was left open with no real reason to close the door. Ankaurk slows to peek inside. The room itself was quite large with two small beds inside and a single crib amongst various children’s toys. Simple, yet elegant and expensive. Even with the childish things scattered around messily, it still gave off a cold vibe. As if some invisible entity was discouraging children from playing. 

Sanetra sat on a rocking chair next to a low redwood bench. There as no doubt the furniture in the room was older than both of the adults combined. Ankaurk had to praise the preservation work the family did to keep their old belongings in such good shape. If anyone ever thought to look, tiny scribbles littered the underside of the bench, accessible to only the young children unless actively lifted to reveal it. 

She knew he was there the moment he looked inside. The governess didn’t acknowledge his presence until he worked up the courage to step inside. He peered around to find Yara curled among a set of plush bags sleeping the afternoon away. Much of the children’s time would be spent with the governess and inside the nursery. Sanetra would be more of a mother to the children than their real one 

“I was just feeding him.” She says. Today, Sanetra’s hair is unbound and thickly streaked with white hair. Even though she was much closer to Lilliana Havermoon’s age than him, Sanetra still looked older than the matriarch. “He’s a very quiet baby.” Sanetra continues, not glancing his way, only staring at the baby fondly. “Much sweeter than Masha ever was.” Ankaurk had never seen the older children as infants. The heir and her near-twin sister were both old enough to begin serious lessons before he arrived in Venia and joined the family. Judging by both the temperaments of both children, he could only make guesses. 

Ankaurk hesitates. Finally, the governess looks up at him. “You can hold him. He  _ is _ your son.”

“But I-” How could he try to make a connection with Malachi if he was fated to die? 

“Yara will not tell if she wakes and sees you with him.” She mistook his words to worry. Ankaurk doesn’t have the heart to correct her. With trembling hands, he crosses the room and gathers his son in his arms. 

Malachi looked shockingly like his mother. All of her children did. He hoped he would continue to look like her. It would be safer that way. Bastard children had difficult lives if exposed. All of his willpower crumbled the moment the baby looked at him with his large brown eyes. His knees gave out, and he slumps onto the low bench. Ankaurk crosses one over the other at his ankle, fitting the child easily under the crook of his elbow. Malachi was not allowed to know who his birth father was, isolated already at such a young age. 

Sanetra hands him the bottle, still filled with warm milk. Many noblewomen would take over feeding their children after a certain amount of time after giving birth, commoners right away. Lillana desired none of this. Malachi’s health rested completely in Sanetra’s hands. “How can I protect him?” The words slip out before he realized he was thinking aloud. 

“Love him.” It is the only thing Sanetra says. He doesn't know Yara isn't asleep when he leaves. 

  
  


**Twenty-Two Years.**

Birthdays were private affairs. For Ankaurk, they were always somber. Malachi never seemed to mind the only ones who wanted to celebrate with him with any enthusiasm were the servants close to him and Yara. The rest followed the motions. His older sisters cared less about their own. When the Havermoons reached a certain age, birthdays became less of an affair. 

Lillana’s promise loomed over his head. He never knew when, but he always knew it would happen. 

Malachi stood a full head shorter than him. He still looked so much like his mother. Ankaurk loved to see his smile. The day went by as it normally would have: the servants giving him well wishes and gifts of small trinkets exchanged. Everyone knew Mal liked little things that were easy to hide. After all, he couldn’t prove the existence of something if no one could find it. A small pendant, ribbon for a hair tie, even a little jade fish. They were stashed somewhere in the bricks of his room. He wished he knew which brick he hid his things behind, give him one last thing to preserve his memory. 

At twenty-two years old, he hadn’t grown much. Malachi stood very short for a man, but it never seemed to bother him. For all the troubles he had growing up, he could have grown up to be a very different person. Malachi was still kind and easy-going, so quick to smile. So different from his family.

He was dressed in all white, a simple robe down to his ankles. It was tied loosely at his middle, and he stood relaxed as Ankaurk set his hair into a simple braid. He didn’t know what lies Lilliana told the young man. It could be anything, his son was so easy to please and desperate for attention from a woman who didn’t deserve to look at him. 

“Can you save a piece of Cook’s pie for me?” Mal’s voice draws him out of his thoughts. Ankaurk looks at him over his shoulder into the floor mirror they stood in front of. Very few people were allowed into his room, his parents and sisters unwillingly because he had no choice but to let them in. Ankaurk had the pleasure of open access. Mal kept his room locked when he wasn’t inside, and he always supervised when the maids came in to change the sheets and collect the ashes from the fireplace. The key was always kept on his person. 

“I thought you didn’t like Cook’s apple pie.” He asks, watching as his son puffs his cheeks into a pout. 

“That’s not true,” Mal protests come too fast. He doesn’t catch onto the fact Ankaurk is only teasing him. “I eat everything she feeds me!” Except for rabbit. Malachi would rather go hungry. No one cooked that game for him. On those days, he was always served something seperate. 

Ankaurk laughs. “So then I guess you’ll be upset if I eat your share, then?” He would. Malachi absolutely would. 

Mal spins around to squint up at him. “Ankaurk, if you don’t save me a piece of pie for later I’ll be very cross with you.” His stern look cracks in an instant and is forced to use his sleeve to hide the grin poking through his facade. They laugh together. Mal doesn’t even protest when he tugs lightly on his earlobes. 

“What does mother need me to do at the lake, anyway?” Malachi muses. It’s said mostly to himself. Her request demanded him to be bare except for the white robe she provided. 

He wishes he didn’t know. “You should be going, or face the wrath of Lady Lilliana for making her wait.” The words feel like sandpaper in his throat. He wishes Mal wasn’t perceptive enough to know he was holding himself with thin pieces of wet paper. Mal could be so dense, but he could be so smart. 

Mal doesn’t ask and Ankaurk doesn’t tell. Everything wants him to scream. His son holds up a stern finger with the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Remember, the pie.” He’d already had so much of it this afternoon, enough sweets to rot a tooth. It’s not enough to undo the damage done to him. Ankaurk nods and lets him go. 

“Mal.” 

He pauses at the doorway, impatient. 

“I… travel well, little ears.” He wished it wasn’t a word spoken at funerals back at his home. 

  
  


Lillana returns alone. Whatever she tells the world doesn’t matter. Malachi is already dead. He never cuts the pie and Sanetra and he swallow their own tears instead. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ankaurk is a very tragic character. The nature of his position in the household is a very precarious, yet stable one. His knowledge of what happened to Mal is the reason he is still a servant for the Havermoons. However, it must have hurt to know what was going to happen to him and not being able to do anything about it.


End file.
